Deny Thy Father, Refuse Thy Name
by Beboppin' Betty
Summary: UPDATED! When the daughter Wesley thought had died in infancy turns up on the Hyperion's doorstep, the whole Fang Gang is thrown for a loop. They take her in, not knowing how dangerous she really is, or that she would be their downfall. R&R!
1. Default Chapter

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Deny Thy Father, Refuse Thy Name

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Angel, or Joss Whedon and his crew. Original characters are mine.

A/N: **even though I have a million fics going right now, I had to get this off my mind. So the question is, do I continue? Let me know!!**

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The wind howled and the rain came down in torrents as the fierce lightning lit up the sky. Trees were toppled and windows shattered. It was pathetic fallacy at it's finest. Of course, it was only fitting that it decided to come _now._

Waves of pain ripped through her abdomen and she cried out. "Jesus fucking Christ! Damn you! Damn you straight to hell!" 

The midwife remained silent. It was common for the mother to curse the father, except in this case she got the feeling that the woman wasn't just mad with the pain. Not that she cared, though. The woman had come to her a month before with the plan, and she hadn't turned her down. 

She was starting to wish she had. 

But it was too late now. Everything had been set in motion once the water had broken, fourteen hours before. 

The woman felt another contraction about to hit, and drew in a ragged breath. The midwife peered up at her through her legs. "Push on this one." 

The woman glared at her abdomen. "Just get this fucking thing out of me." The comment was ignored. "Push! Come on!" Using every ounce of energy that she contained, the woman pushed, anxious to be free of _it_. 

The thunder clapped loud enough to rattle the windows and the room was completely illuminated as the lightning struck down. Neither woman paid attention to the figure in the corner, though both were acutely aware of it's presence. 

"Come on, one last push!" The woman growled in pain as she finally expelled the child. There was a loud cry from the infant as the midwife cut the cord and cleaned the infant off. "It's a girl."

The woman looked away, exhausted. "You know what to do."

The midwife wrapped the girl in a soft blanket and approached the figure in the corner. It opened it's black robes with one arm, revealing another baby held in the other. She passed over the newborn and took the other child from it's arms. Turning back to the woman, the midwife took no notice as the cloaked figure melted into the shadows and disappeared. 

"Here you go." The midwife gently deposited the baby she now held, only hours old itself, into the woman's arms. "Thanks. Well kid, who'd a thought we'd end up like this, huh?" The response was a gurgle, and the woman almost felt something tugging at her heart. Almost.

Hours later, when mother and child were resting, the midwife allowed herself to sit a moment to enjoy a nip of scotch before heading home. It was a ritual that she had; a reward she allowed herself after every successful delivery.

She pulled out the flask that she kept and poured a double into one of the glasses she'd found in the cupboard. Honest-to-God crystal. Who kept crystal glasses at a cabin in the middle of nowhere?

Then she took into account just who had employed her. The woman had money coming out her ass - but the midwife didn't care too much about that. She did what she did because she loved children, not because of the money.

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But that's why you accepted this job...She angrily hushed the voice taunting her. She was a good woman...she just needed to put food on the table somehow. Who'd condemn a good woman like herself for wanting a little extra? No one! Hell, she _deserved _it!

The more indignant she became, the more she drank. She didn't notice anything strange as she polished off the rest of the scotch in the silver flask. When her vision became blurred she chalked it up to the mixture of booze and fatigue. 

But then her chest started to hurt. Not an achy type hurt, but the type where it felt like someone had stuck her with a bowie knife and was twisting it extra hard. She toppled to the floor and lay curled in a ball, clutching her bosom. She cried out when fire shot through her body, eating her from the inside out. Her head pounded as if her brain were expanding to the point of bursting. 

Through the haze of pain and tears, she saw a figure standing in the doorway, watching her with a mixture of disdain and pity. "Wh-what's hap-happening?" She managed to get the words out before another wave of pain crippled her. 

"Isn't it obvious? I couldn't very well have any witnesses, could I?" 

The midwife stared up at the new mother in disbelief. The woman was pure evil. At that moment she felt an extreme sense of remorse at what she'd been a party to. What had she gotten that innocent child sleeping in the other room into? 

As blackness closed in one last thought swept through her mind. _Forgive me child..._

The woman stared down at the now dead midwife. "Sorry honey, it's a hazard of the game." The baby in the other room suddenly started crying, and she sighed. For some reason, she suddenly wondered what Lindsey would say if he could see her now.

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Lilah Morgan? A mother? When did hell freeze over?

Lilah glared at the mere thought of him. "Shut up Lindsey. I'm coming kid!" As she nursed the hungry girl, Lilah knew that she'd be expected to offer her up as a sacrifice, and she had no qualms about it. She just wasn't cut out to be a mother. It must have been the one tiny sliver of maternal instinct that Lilah contained that had made her see that her biological daughter was safe. 

Lilah immediately squashed any emotion she was feeling towards the baby that she'd borne. If she could feel emotion like that then the conscience that she'd thought herself void of might start making appearances. And that was not a good thing in her line of work.

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Who knows, maybe she'll become useful someday...Lilah rationalized her actions easily. The girl actually *might* be useful to her in the future. Especially where her father was concerned. Who knows what Wesley would do when he found out that he'd produced offspring?

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short, I know, but I'm not continuing unless you guys want me to. i.e. REVIEW!


	2. ch 2

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **OMG! You guys are awesome! I can honestly say that I *never* expected such a great response. Of course, I've spent the last two days trying to figure out how to continue with another chapter that's up to par with the last, and I'm not sure I succeeded, but I tried. Don't forget to review!**

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The dark, smoky, depressing atmosphere suited his mood perfectly. Gritty rock music was being piped through the speakers hidden in the corners, but was nearly overpowered by the din of clacking pool balls and chatty patrons. A rather inebriated biker bumped into his table, causing the whiskey in his glass to slosh and splatter on the filthy table top, but Wesley barely even noticed. 

His thoughts were a whirlwind, and they had caught him in an updraft, tangling him in with the dozens of voices that chattered in his ear; one standing out loud and clear above the others: _I have a daughter._

"Had," he bitterly corrected himself. "I _had _a daughter." And he had never even gotten the chance to see her. Hell, he hadn't *known* about her until just recently, when an informed turncoat from Wolfram and Hart had divulged the information to him. It was then that everything seemed to fall into place: Lilah breaking off their affair, her disappearance and strange and abrupt halt in meddling in Angel's existence, at least, she quit making personal appearances. And it was all because she didn't want anyone to know of her pregnancy, or worse, whose baby it was that she was carrying. 

He motioned to the waitress for a refill, determined to get himself smashed. When he'd asked what had come of the child, he'd been horrified - absolutely _appalled - _to learn that she'd been sacrificed to the evil firm. 

A sort of cold had enveloped him that day, a cold that had invaded his senses and hung heavily on his heart. For some reason, he'd never truly believed Lilah to be so....devoid of anything remotely good as to offer up her own child to be sacrificed. 

To be killed. 

A perfect, innocent life, extinguished. And for what? Wesley had cried that day, for the loss of something he had never seen, yet loved so much it hurt. And then he'd gotten mad. Mad at himself, furious at Lilah. In some twisted way, he'd come to love her. Lilah was a woman who spoke to his dark side, who'd tantalized and teased and drawn it out to the forefront. She had played a very large part in his transformation into the person he was today, and he had loved her. 

But then he'd found out about his child, and what love he felt was immediately transformed into hate; into utter loathing. He had nearly killed her for what she had done, but stopped himself from toppling over the brink, fearing for his sanity.

He nearly laughed at the irony of the situation. He finally knew what Angel had felt when he'd taken Connor from the vampire. _Except his child came back..._And Wesley's never would. In that instant, he envied Angel. Envied him more than he ever thought possible.

But tonight he was going to wallow in self pity, knowing that there would be forever more a gaping void in his very soul...and it was all thanks to Lilah Morgan.

***

if anyone has any suggestions on how they'd like to see this continue, I'd love to hear them!


	3. ch 3

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **mild spoilers ahead for those of you who haven't seen season 7 of Buffy yet. Hope this chapter's as enjoyable as the last two! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and made suggestions. Don't forget to review!**

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Switzerland

Helene Reinmar regarded the couple on the other side of the desk critically. They weren't the first couple to show interest in the little girl that had been mysteriously left with the institution two months before, but they were the first who had been approved. One couldn't be too careful these days concerning the welfare of a child, so the adoption process was rigorous and lengthy. For reasons unknown to her, much of the red tape involved in these situations had been cut through remarkably quickly - but Helene wasn't too concerned. Instead, she was happy that the infant would be going to her new home so quickly, and with lovely people, it seemed. 

They were an unusual pair; the man nearly double the age of his wife. Helene smiled inwardly. They must have had to overcome many, many obstacles to get where they were today. He, a British museum curator, and her, a young, American historian recently out of grad school. They'd met through business, they'd said, as they stared at each other affectionately.

There was a soft knock at the door and one of the nurses entered, a bundle swathed in pink in her arms. The new parents were immediately on their feet, anxious to claim her, finally, for their own. Helene never grew tired of seeing a new family formed...even if she was mildly disappointed that this fine specimen of a man was taken. She congratulated them once more and saw them to the door with the fondest wishes of good luck.

Inside the car, the woman turned in her seat to stare at the now sleeping baby in the back. New lives never ceased to amaze her, and this was no exception. Sighing, she tried to beat back the guilt that was welling up inside, but her attempts proved futile. "I can't help but feel that we're cheating her out of a good life," she began, turning her gaze onto the man who had posed as her husband for the duration of the farce. "Tell me I'm not the only one feeling remorse here, Giles."

The man in question gave the concerned woman's hand a quick squeeze. "No, you're not, but you know-" She sighed. "Yeah, I know, I know. You don't have to explain it to me again. It in everyone's best interest, especially hers, that the Council raise her." She paused and smirked as the small airstrip came into sight. "Never thought I'd say that...or that *you* of all people would." 

Giles chuckled. He never would have believed it himself, up until a year or so ago. But then, he wouldn't have believed most of the things that had happened in that short time, had he learned of them the same time last year. The top of the list was the fact that once the Council of old had been obliterated, it was he who had been elected by the surviving members to head up the new one. The honour had come as a complete shock to him, and for awhile he'd considered turning down the offer. But then he realized that it was a very real possibility that if he didn't accept, the new organization would be exactly the same as the old, and they all knew how well that had worked in the past. 

The second item on his list was the woman sitting next to him. In the years he had known her she had gone through considerable changes, and was finally in a place where she was happy with herself. When Giles had told the Scoobies of the new development with the Council, she had expressed a desire to leave Sunnydale - as well as her past - behind, and asked if she could come along; if she could be of any help to him. Surprising himself, he accepted, and now he didn't know what he'd do without her. She was his right-hand man, and more than that, she was his friend; one of the only people he felt he could truly trust in the new Council.

Later, as they sat aboard the small charter plane, owned by the council, of course, Giles watched her as she held the baby in her lap. "She's beautiful, don't you think?" She was indeed, with a shock of nearly black peach fuzz, and the darkest, loveliest blue eyes he'd ever seen. For a brief moment, he wondered who could give up such a creature, but then thought of the type of people who were in the world...

"She needs a name."

His thoughts interrupted, Giles realized that Anya was right - the child _did _need a name. "Well, what do you think we should call her?" It never dawned on either of them the intimacy of naming a child together, nor of the quaint tableau the three of them painted together. Finally Anya shrugged. "What about Geneva?" She didn't have to explain her logic, and was glad of that fact. She had grown enough as a person to realize how innocent and naive she'd been while in Sunnydale. "What do you think the girls will think of her?" The 'girls' being the ten slayers-in-training that were boarding at the new Council headquarters. Giles smiled at the expected reactions of the girls, as well as what the other members of the Council were likely to say. "I'm fairly sure that they will adore her." They fell into a comfortable silence after that, only to be broken some time later by Anya's casual observation of Geneva.

"It's amazing that something so tiny could hold so much power." Giles nodded, thinking the exact same thing as he stared down at the little girl that Anya had placed in his arms. "I'm going to get an ETA from John." As the former vengeance demon went to talk with the pilot, Giles was left alone with Geneva.

"You're destined for great things, little one. Mark my words."


	4. ch 4

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **Important!! It may be a little confusing right now, but trust me when I say that all will be revealed in the chapters to come (i.e. details leading up to this chapter). This chapter may not be as good as the last ones, but there is a method to my madness. Thanks to everyone for reviewing! Don't forget to do it again!**

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Eighteen Years Later

They were calling it a war zone. The damage was worse than anything the city had seen: buildings toppled, roadways gutted, fires that choked the sky with rancid pillars of black smoke. And death. Thousands had died; faceless bodies in a sea of destruction - and it was all thanks to one teenage girl. 

Her face was plastered over every still-working television set, and she was classified as 'extremely dangerous,' emphasis on the extremely. If anyone were to see her, they were instructed to pretty much run the other way. Ground troops had been sent in, but their efforts had proved futile, and that both frightened and embarrassed the government, so they stepped up their defence, getting all the intelligence agencies involved. They'd be sure to take her down now, they'd thought. Except for one little problem. She had completely disappeared. Vanished into thin air, it seemed, and there was no way in heaven or hell that they were going to let the American public in on this rather large crisis. 

But there were some who knew, and they were searching desperately for her - stretching every resource they had until there was nothing left. They wanted her as badly, more so, even, than the government, and for a totally different reason. Instead of studying her like a science experiment gone wrong, they wanted to help her get better. They knew how Geneva had the ability to fell an entire building with a wave of her hand, and they knew she desperately needed to get back on the right track, to be good again. 

"Where did we go wrong?" She said it with such sadness, such guilt, that Giles just wanted to take her into his arms and never let go. He tipped her chin up so she was looking him in the eye. "We did _nothing _wrong, Anya. She just made a bad choice, that's all. We're going to find her and bring her home so she can get better. I promise."

Anya frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to fight the chill that had overcome her since the day the girl she'd raised and loved as her daughter had chosen the 'dark side'. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Rupert. It doesn't become you." She paused to look out the window, and sighed at the sight that met her. "It's almost inconceivable that Geneva is responsible for all of this, don't you think?"

He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. "It is. But you know what Geneva's been like since childhood; she did a lot more than toe the line, she danced it." The line to which he was referring was that between good and bad, and Anya knew better than anyone just how right he was. 

"You have to understand...you all do," she began, turning to include the rest of the group, who waited expectantly. "Once you cross the line...it's so incredibly hard to come back over. And once you get a taste for blood....it makes the transition all that more difficult." Her words hung heavily in the air, and she knew that several of them were reliving some part in their past that the statement had drawn out of the depths of their memories. She let her gaze travel over each of them: Angel and Cordelia, Willow, Gunn, Rupert, and finally Wesley. 

The comparison immediately jumped into her mind. Geneva had obviously gotten her dark hair and blue eyes from him, as well as his intellect. _Funny, _she thought, as she stared at the man who had fathered her daughter. _She gets all of his good qualities, and all her mother's bad. _Anya had met Lilah once or twice, and had felt her dormant dark side jump in recognition of a kindred spirit. 

She wondered how he was handling all of this: the daughter he had only recently discovered, one who was being raised by people he considered friends; a child he'd just begun to develop a relationship with, had allowed herself to be drawn into the fold of the bad guys. _It must be eating him alive, _she mused silently, her heart going out to him, one parent to another. She briefly thought of her son, Adrian. He and Geneva had been thick as thieves since he was born, barely three years after they'd adopted Gen. He'd demanded to be allowed to stay and fight forhis sister, and Anya had had a hard time saying no to him. But in the end he'd been sent off to stay with Xander and Vanessa in Miami with the rest of the second generation Fang-slash-Scooby gang, much to his everlasting dismay. 

Everyone was too deep in thought to notice when Fred came rushing into the room. "Guys, I found something." The tone of her voice was not promising, and Angel motioned for her to continue half-heartedly. "I was searching the web and I found out that the same thing is happening in other places - not just LA." Giles and Wesley both instinctively reverted back to Watcher mode. "Where?" "How many?"

"Uh...it started off as four, but whatever is responsible is moving. There's one in South America, one moving through Europe, and one in Asia. From what I can tell they're hitting the major cities." They sat there in a sort of stunned silence. 

"That means......." Cordy began, trying to wrap her mind around the newest development. She was still having a hard time believing that the beautiful, charming, somewhat naughty-but-irresistible girl she'd grown to love as a niece could be the cause of so much mayhem. 

"That means that something's coming," Wesley said, a look of resignation clouding his eyes. "Something big."

~*~

Geneva Giles was excited. She was more powerful than she could ever remember being, and was only eighteen years old. In fact, she was one of the most powerful beings on the planet....but she didn't let it get to her head. It would do no good to let a thing like an over inflated ego stand in the way of destiny.

She had loved the irony of finding out that she did, in fact, have a destiny, when she had never before believed in it. True, that pre-ordained path was rather vague, yet totally specific all at the same time. She had come to the fork that represented the two paths she could take, and had chosen. It really was too bad that there was no gray area where her fate was concerned, but there wasn't a whole lot she chose to do about it. 

Turning onto an open stretch of highway, she cranked the radio and shifted into high gear. She could have easily gotten to where she was headed much quicker by teleporting herself, but Geneva had loved the car at first sight; it would go fast, and Geneva liked going fast. Unfortunately for the owner, she was a girl who went after what she wanted, and he had made the mistake of standing in her way.

She felt an odd tingling at the back of her mind, and as bizarre as that would be for a normal being, it only caused Geneva's excitement to grow. It was finally time to gather, and she couldn't wait to see the others. They had some serious business to attend to. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she grinned. 

"This is gonna be fun." 


	5. ch 5

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **this is sort of a filler chapter, so it's probably not all that great, but it's hard to come up with a great chapter every time, as I'm sure everyone knows. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me on this (despite the confusion with the last chapter)**

Imzadi - I'd really like to add Lindsey into the story, but I'm not quite sure how to do it. If you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them!

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Tariq- I hate to disappoint, but I'm completely anti B/A, and I really don't like Buffy in general, so she probably won't make an appearance in this story. Hope that doesn't deter you from reading, though.

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Gidgetgirl - thanks for the continuous reviews and helpful hints!

Also, thanks to everyone else who reviews - they're the only reason I continue on the stories I post.

Anyway, on to the story!

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Seventeen Months Earlier (note: this time period may be subject to change)

"....Next thing I know, I'm tossed into the dumpster, and then the thing impales Angel with one of these massive spikes-" Gunn was momentarily cut off when the vampire growled in pain as Cordelia tended to the aforementioned wound. He didn't hesitate to continue on with the tale, eager to please his audience. "So we're both out of commission and I figure we're done for, when the last thing I expected to happen, happens." He paused, trying to build some anticipation, and grinned when his nine-year-old son, Shawn, bounced in his seat. "Dad! What happened next?!" 

Shawn wasn't the only one who wanted to know the ending of the story, but the rest of the Fang Gang had a much better time curbing their curiosity, mainly because they had all experienced countless number of similar situations in their time at A.I. Shawn, however, was always mesmerized by the tales of the 'epic battles' that all of the elder members of his family had endured. "Just get on with it already!" Cordy exclaimed as she administered the last bandage to her lover. 

"Okay, okay! Anyway, the demon was on the verge of totally slaughtering us when it squeals like a stuck pig. Apparently, something attacked it from behind, so it forgets about us and goes after the chick who hurt it-" 

"Chick? A woman interfered?" Wesley was immediately intrigued, so much so that he didn't see either of the hands that were poised to smack, courtesy of Cordelia and Fred, until it was too late. Gunn and Angel shook their heads at the ex-Watcher, who donned a sheepish look as he realized how offensive his comment had come across. "Sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that. Back to the story. Who was she?"

Gunn glared. "I was getting there. AS I was saying, the demon and this girl get into it, and she starts kickin' it's ass! Which is kinda embarrassing, come to think of it....." As he trailed off, Shawn jumped in, inquisitive as ever. "Why's it embarrassing, dad?" Cordelia and Fred shared a smirk, and Fred replied sweetly, "because daddy doesn't like to admit that a girl could beat up something that he couldn't. Which is wrong. He shouldn't be embarrassed by it at all." Fred sent her husband a glare now, annoyed that Gunn wouldn't have the foresight to see that the things he said would be absorbed by his son, and she was trying instill in him the idea of equal rights. 

"Your mom's right, but that's not the point. You guys should have seen her fight!" At this point, Angel decided to offer up his input. "She was incredible, I have to admit. It looked like she was just playing with the demon....like she was born to do it." There was a tone in his voice that the others didn't often hear from the vampire. Admiration. From his position leaning against the counter, arms crossed, Wesley made a casual observation. "Like a Slayer?"

Judging the surprise on his face, Wes assumed that Angel hadn't thought of the possibility. "No....I don't think so," he replied slowly, as if reliving the event in his memory. "There was something about her that was different from any Slayer I've ever encountered, but I don't know what." Actually, he had an idea. She was better. He didn't say it aloud, though, because he would have drawn a few mighty weird looks, saying that some mystery girl was better than Buffy....even though he had gotten over her _years _ago. "Besides," he added. "The current Slayer's still alive, and it definitely wasn't her." For some reason, Angel wanted to know more about the girl.

"Hey!" An impatient Shawn interrupted. "You never told us how she killed it!" Gunn realized his son was right. "Well, here's the thing. I don't know how. One minute they're fighting, the next she sort of hits it in the chest and the thing drops like a rock." Angel nodded in agreement. That was another reason he wanted to learn more about the mystery girl. "Think we should research?" asked Fred, her fingers itching to get online (it had been too long since something good like this had landed in her lap), but the wind went out of her sails when Angel shook his head. "Nah, not enough to go on. She was probably just one of the locals trying to do her part." By locals, he meant local demon hunters, and by not enough to go on, he meant 'I'm going to find out about her first, _then_ you can do research'. 

Wesley watched the two couples interact, skilfully ignoring the feeling of loneliness that had been present around the edges for as long as he could remember. He had had relationships since Lilah, but none that lasted. He and his current girlfriend were in an off period, and he didn't have high hopes that it would hold out much longer. Knowing that Fred had decided to overcome her problems with Gunn all those years before and marry him had initially been like a sucker-punch to the gut, but his feelings for her had dulled over time, and had turned into a mere strong affection somewhere along the way. 

His gaze then shifted to Angel and Cordelia. They were sitting side by side; her hand on his knee, while he absently stroked her back. It was a sight that he wouldn't have ever expected to see, once upon a time. Where Fred and Gunn had been a predictable outcome, _they_ had not. There had been so many obstacles that they'd had to overcome to get to where they were today; Cordelia's temporary lack of judgement when she chose to sleep with Connor topping the list. There were other factors, of course, but that alone set them back a good year or so. It was around the time that Cordelia found out she was pregnant that they patched things up on the romantic front. The child's father was no longer in the picture, and had no interest in even seeing his offspring, so Angel had stepped up to the plate, officially getting over his grudge. 

Wesley frowned, annoyed that he was feeling jealous of Angel once again. Grabbing his jacket, he strode out the door with nary an explanation, knowing that the Fang Gang wouldn't think twice about his abrupt departure - they'd had years to get used to it. And even if they did wonder about it, Wes didn't care. He had his mind on more important things.

He was in the mood to kill something.

...

"Mom, you'll never guess what we saw!" Maya Chase calmly marched into the hotel, not bothering with any greetings. At twelve, she was a younger replica of her mother: a confident, intelligent, beautiful girl who was rather blunt, and a natural leader. "Hey, Wes," she added as he appeared from the office. He returned the greeting in kind, including Lorne and Lonnie under his gaze. 

Lonnie - or Alonna, after her long dead aunt - eagerly began regaling them with the tale of a mysterious dark haired girl they witnessed fight, and kill, a large demon of indeterminate race. Wesley smiled fondly at the two girls he considered nieces. The girls weren't even a year apart, and despite their totally opposite personalities, they were best friends. Lonnie certainly had a knack for storytelling, he realized - not for the first time - as he became drawn into the story, and found himself almost desperate to discover the identity of the mystery girl she talked of.

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Wait...could she be the same girl who saved Angel and Gunn last week? It was highly probable, he decided, if Lonnie's description was accurate. He quietly observed the girls, remembering when Cordy and Fred had discovered they'd be pregnant together. The women had been ecstatic, and he'd been just as happy for them...but he'd also been incredibly envious. The wounds of losing his own daughter were still relatively fresh, and then they'd both ended up having girls.

It had seemed like some big cosmic joke at the time - everything and everyone out there was trying to remind him that he was alone. He'd turned to drinking for a short while after he found out about the sacrificed baby, but realized that he was turning into his own father, and that had scared him straight. None of the Fang Gang had known the reason for his sudden spiral into depression.....because he had never told them.

To this day, none of them knew that Wesley had had a little girl all his own once, and they never would, if he had anything to say about it. 

"Where are Angelcakes and Gunn?" Lorne's question brought Wes back down to earth. "They went to see if they could rustle up some business," Cordy replied distractedly, wondering the cause of the dark look that had settled on her friend's brow. "Why?" Lorne paused, curious as to why Wesley hadn't gone with the others. Pushing his thoughts away, he replied, "I think I've found out the reason that the demon activity has been so non-existent lately."

Cordy and Wes waited expectantly. The agnostic demon hadn't been exaggerating - they were lucky to find a vamp to dust. "Something's got them scared, and I think it's the mystery girl we've all heard so much about." Lorne hesitated a moment before pushing on. "I've met a lot of demons who are more afraid of this girl than they are of the Slayer." Now everyone's curiosity was peaked, including the girls'. "Huh," Maya said thoughtfully. "Whoever she is, she's gotta be pretty damn special if she's got all the baddies running the other way with their tails between their legs." Lorne patted the girl's shoulder affectionately. "I don't think special's the right word, sweetie." After a moment of silence, Lonnie asked, confused, "then what is?"

"Powerful. I felt a lot of power enter the city about two weeks ago, but I didn't expect it to come attached to a teenage girl. That's most likely the reason the demon community is scared." "So what do we do? Should we wait for Angel and Gunn, or....?" Wesley offered a small smile at Cordelia's question. "I think you know the answer to that." The seer sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Research. Did I ever tell you how much I have come to detest that word?" 

Wesley tossed her a book, enjoying the feeling of comfort he got from immersing himself in some ancient tomes written in archaic languages. "Less chatting, more reading. Come on, people! We have a prophecy to find!"

Maya narrowed her brows. "Who says it's a prophecy?" Cordelia snorted derisively. "Because it's _always _ a prophecy, hon. You should know that by now." Maya shrugged. "True, but by your reasoning, couldn't it be an apocalypse?"

She barely had time to duck to avoid all the projectiles that were immediately hurled her way. "Or not."

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Geneva will come into play in the next chapter. Oh, if you haven't read the author's note, do me a favour and go back to it. Don't forget to review! (if you're going to flame, could you at least offer some helpful hints on how you believe the story could be improved?)


	6. ch 6

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: well, here it is. I feel like I'm getting back on track now, so hopefully you all (whoever hasn't abandoned me on this, lol) enjoy. Don't forget to REVIEW!

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For some reason, she loved the rain. Thunderstorms were even better, but that wasn't the case that evening. Instead there was a slow, steady drizzle that plastered her hair to her face, and her clothes to her body. The few people she passed on the street didn't give her a passing glance, nor did she them. When she turned into a dark alley and disappeared down a staircase, no one saw. 

A pair of opaque eyes took one look through the slit in the door, and it swung wide open. She offered the bouncer a brief nod as she passed, noting the looks she drew as she wound her way through the crowd with mild interest. There were some high rollers here tonight, mingling with the bottom rung of society; the two different worlds becoming one in their mutual interest in the Pit. 

The Pit was an underground establishment that offered the opportunity to bet on events very similar to cock fights or dog fights, with one glaring difference. The contenders were demons - or anyone who was stupid enough to face off with a monster in a small, enclosed space. Geneva was one of those people. She had come to LA on a mission, but a girl was entitled to a little fun once in awhile. 

There was a squeal and an odd sound from the pit in the center of the room, the very thing for which the club was named for, and the crowd went wild. "Guess we have a winner," she muttered and peered over the rail. Sure enough, a headless corpse was being dragged away while the victor raised his arms and egged the crowd on. Bills changed hands and a yellow demon in a suit entered the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner! Gorvath, you have so far been unbeaten this evening, and unless there are any more challengers.........." He didn't finish the sentence as he looked up at the crowd expectantly. Geneva didn't hesitate to jump down into the ring. "I'll have a go."

The announcer smiled, showing off several razor-sharp teeth. "Excellent. Gorvath, my good man, do you accept?" Geneva smiled prettily at the demon who was assessing her. Gorvath smirked. "It seems like a waste of my time," the demon paused, revelling in the hoots and hollers from the crowd. "But I accept." "Very well. Gorvath, your challenger......Hellcat!"

Geneva stared at the announcer as he made a hasty exit. She hadn't chosen the pseudonym, but she didn't mind it. The bell rang and Gorvath leapt, aiming for her head. She easily dodged the blow, snapping his wrist in the process. The Amidon demon wasn't deterred, though. The injury only seemed to make him madder. Geneva grinned as she threw herself at him. It appeared that she might get a good workout with this one. 

...

He watched from the back. He often visited the Pit, sometimes to watch, others to fight. It was one thing in his life that he kept from the others, knowing what their reactions would be if he ever divulged his pastime. 

She really did have exceptional abilities, he thought absently. Her form was flawless, and she appeared to be thoroughly enjoying herself. He was captivated by her; the one they called Hellcat. For reasons unknown, he had always just missed seeing her at the Pit, but her reputation had preceded her. It didn't do her justice, he decided. It was like a dance, the way she moved. He was so focussed on her, and her alone, that he didn't notice she'd won the fight until two more demons appeared to help Gorvath out of the ring. The fights weren't always to the death - it was up to the winner whether or not they wanted to kill their opponent. 

__

She's merciful, too....his inner voice began, but he wasn't so sure that was the case in this situation. There was a smirk on her lips and a cool yet triumphantgleam in her eye. Sometimes it was worse for the loser to live with the shame of being beaten, and many would have rather been killed than live with that. He was on his feet in an instant, deciding that he would catch her on the way out of the ring. 

He absently reached into his pocket for the vibrating cell phone. "Yeah?" There was an anxious female voice on the other line, but he couldn't make out what she was saying for all the noise. He moved away for an instant to find a quieter corner. When he glanced back at the ring, she was gone. "Dammit. What? No, it's nothing, Cordy. Yeah- Mission Street? Okay, I'll be there." He ended the conversation and glanced back at the ring one last time. "One day, Hellcat. One day _soon_." 

~*~

She'd known he was there, watching, the moment she jumped into the ring. His stare had practically burned holes in her back, it was so intense. She was curious as to who he was...he'd crossed her path twice now in the two weeks she'd been in LA; the first time when she'd saved his life. 

She came to a stop in front of a large office building; the grounds covered in perfectly manicured lawns and meticulously tended gardens. The dark stranger was pushed to the back of her mind as she tilted her head to stare up at the top floor. The light in the corner office was still blazing, even in the wee hours of the morning. 

"Don't stay up too late, mom. Tomorrow's the family reunion."


	7. ch 7

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Disclaimer: see pt.1

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From her position sprawled out across the double bed, Geneva cracked an eye and searched blearily for the clock. She swore under her breath when she saw that it was barely past nine - she hadn't made it in until nearly four last night. As the shrill ringing of the phone persisted, Geneva scowled and heaved herself to her feet.

"The world had better be ending, or whoever this is, is dead!" She growled into the phone she'd dug out of the pants that had been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor the night before. 

//My, don't we sound chipper// At the tone of her brother's voice, Geneva immediately frowned. Something was definitely up - Adrian rarely sounded morose, and this was one of those times. "What's the matter?" Her mind was already running rampant with the possibilities, but one stood out above all others. "It's Stella, isn't it?"

At Adrian's sigh, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "When?" She hated hearing that the latest Slayer was no longer, and Stella was no exception. In her lifetime, Geneva had watched five girls get called, and five girls get killed. _//Last night. They're having the funeral this afternoon//_

"Don't you think that's kind of morbid? Having your funeral all planned out before you even die?"

//Yeah, but you know was Stella was like...//

"Who was called? Was it one of ours?" For the number of Slayers in training that they had living at the Council's HQ, it was a relatively small number compared to all of them that were out there. _//Yep. It's Celeste// _He paused momentarily and Geneva heard a female voice in the background, one to which Adrian offered a brief response. "Was that Jez?" Jez was one of the SITs who was Adrian's age. The two of them were pretty good friends, what with her being the only one he got along with and all.

//Yeah, and I gotta go. I'll call ya later//

Not bothering with goodbyes, Geneva hit END. Dragging on her pants, she contemplated the short conversation she'd just had with her brother. She would miss Stella, but death was a hazard of the trade, one that Stella had been more that adequately prepared for. Celeste, on the other hand, worried her. She'd never really gotten over her innate fear of the very things she was destined to conquer, and Geneva was willing to bet that Celeste wouldn't last a year. 

........

"Kill it, Celeste! Use the stake!"

Nine-year-old Geneva paced in frustration, staring into the training room at the young girl who was fighting a vampire. It wasn't a real one, just an illusion, but if you didn't know that beforehand, you wouldn't realize the truth until it was dead. She glanced over at her father, noting that he seemed as frustrated as she. "Dad, why is she so scared? She knows it's not real!" When she got no response, due to the fact that her father was concentrating on Celeste, Geneva huffed and resumed her pacing. 

There was a loud shriek from Celeste and Geneva was out the door like a shot. The vamp was looming over the girl crouched on the floor, fangs bared. Using her power she made the long-discarded stake fly through the air and imbed itself in the vampire's back, making the illusion disappear.

"Oh, quit crying, Celeste. It's gone, and it wasn't even real in the first place! Don't be such a baby!" The girl on the floor sniffled and glared through the tears. "Shut up, Geneva! I'm NOT a baby!"

Geneva folded her arms across her chest and fixed the slightly elder girl with a look of disdain. "Really? And what do you call someone who sits on the floor bawling over an imaginary monster?"

"Geneva! That is ENOUGH! Apologize to her!" Looking up, she was met with the Ripper-face, as her mother called it. While most others were cowed by her dad when he got like this, she remained unaffected. "No way! I'm just telling the truth!" The pair stared each other down for what seemed an eternity before Giles sighed angrily. "If you don't apologize, then no training for a week."

The ultimatum set her emotions into a battle with one another. She didn't understand why she should be punished for pointing out the truth - didn't they always teach her that it was good to tell the truth? Now he was threatening to take her away from training for a *week*, and it was so not fair! She contemplated apologizing for a brief instant, but her stubbornness won out in the end. "I. Will. Not. Apologize." Her father's frown deepened. "Fine, then no training."

The way he said it, so simply, like he had been expecting it to come to that, only made her angrier, for reasons she didn't understand, and because of it, she was tempted to yell at him and blow something up...but suddenly, a sense of calm enveloped her, and it wasn't a calming down calm, but it was a realization striking her like a bolt of lightning. Levelling her deep blue eyes at her father in a steely glare, she said, softly, "You can't stop me."

Had she not been stalking out of the room, she would have seen the stricken look on her father's face. Celeste all but forgotten, Giles dragged his hands through his hair, trying to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. For the briefest instant, he had been frightened of his own daughter, and that in itself was terrifying.

.........

She remembered that particular incident well, and the knowledge she had gained from it. Celeste hadn't had the proper mindset to be a Slayer, and because of that she was sloppy and weak.

Giving herself a once-over in the bathroom mirror, she pushed the doomed Slayer out of her mind, and focussed on more important things, like the impending meeting with her mother. Watching as her reflection shimmered and waved before disappearing completely, she smiled. That always looked cool.

Mere seconds later, she reappeared in a warmly lit hallway, faced with a wide set of doors, plain but for the simple plaque that read Lilah Morgan. Pushing open the door, she stepped into a large, posh, _empty_ office. She didn't mind, though. It gave her a chance to take a little look around. 

As she settled herself in the buttery leather chair, it became apparent that while the office was rich, it offered no insight into the life of the woman who had borne her. Geneva didn't see any personal touches: no little knicknacks, no pictures, nothing. Her attention was drawn to the sleek little computer screen and the password box that sat there, mocking her.

Finally, she touched the screen and gave it a little jolt. "Open sesame," she muttered happily as she got into Lilah's system. There were a wealth of files on demons, colleagues, and all things work related, but there were also several ones labelled 'A.I, accompanied by a name'. Curiously, she clicked on one and was faced with a picture of a very familiar face. "Would you look at that, Mr. Tall, dark, and stalker-y is really the illustrious Angel. Will wonders never cease."

She had never met the vampire until recently, but had heard many stories about (or including) him over the years. It was a remarkable coincidence that Lilah happened to have a personal file on the vampire and his team. It didn't take long before she found herself drawn into them, only to be later interrupted by an angry female voice.

"Who the hell are you?"

~*~

Lilah was more than a little surprised to see a young woman that she had never before seen, sitting at her desk, going through her computer files. The girl looked mildly familiar; her dark hair loosely pulled back, blue eyes fixed on the monitor, but Lilah couldn't place the recognition. "I asked you a question."

Now the girl looked her in the eye. "I heard you. You know, with all the information you have on this thing, you could write a book." Coupling the odd, not-quite British accent with the uncomfortably familiar blue eyes, Lilah felt her stomach drop. 

Seeing the emotion that flashed in Lilah's eyes, Geneva pounced. "I'll give you credit - you figured it out much quicker than I thought you would. It's nice to finally meet you, mom. I'm Geneva."

Lilah couldn't quite hold up her stony facade, and moved over to the nearest couch. "I need to sit down," she murmured, and did so. Geneva smirked, "you look like you could use a drink, actually." Surprisingly, Lilah smiled slightly. "I think you're right. So, how'd you find me?"

Geneva waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. What _does_ matter, is that I found you at all." Lilah pushed herself to her feet and made for the credenza that housed the alcohol. "Why were you even looking?" 

Smiling a little, Geneva shrugged. "I was bored. So tell me, what's your fascination with these Angel Investigations people? I've seen this Angel guy around town a bit. Looks like the type who doesn't want as much attention as you're giving him." 

Startled somewhat by such an abrupt change in topic, Lilah downed her drink and decided to go with it. "You mean the great souled pain in the ass. My superiors have a vested interest in him, unfortunately." A smirk settled itself across the girl's lips, and in an instant, Lilah knew exactly where she had gotten it. It was unsettling, to say the least. "I'm guessing you just want to stake his undead ass and be done with it?"

She tilted her head in affirmation. "You could say that, yeah." She paused, unclear as to why she was hesitating in asking the question she was about to ask. "Geneva, why exactly are you here? I mean, I can't-what are you doing?"

While nosing through her mother's files, she'd stumbled across one that contained information pertaining to herself, though she wasn't named. It seemed that she was developing a bit of a reputation amongst the demon community, and it was raising some flags here at the evil law firm. She got rid of it completely and smiled, getting to her feet. "Nothing. Listen, there are some things I'd like to talk to you about, but not here. Somewhere a little more....private." She pulled open the door, hoping to make a smooth exit, when she was met with a most unexpected sight. Angel. 

She smiled brightly; things were getting more interesting by the minute. "Well, well, we meet again." The vampire recovered from his surprise quickly. "It seems so. What are you doing here?" Geneva shot a look over her shoulder. "You were right about one thing: he certainly is demanding. Angel," she lightly touched his arm, propelling him out of the way. "I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon. Lilah, I'll call you."

And then she was off, calmly striding down the hall, not wanting to teleport in front of these people just yet. As soon as she rounded the corner, however, she was gone. 

...........

What had just happened? Angel stared after the girl he had been enraptured by for weeks, the fact that he was letting her slip through his fingers yet again not dawning on him right away. He whirled on Lilah, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, acutely aware that the very spot the girl he knew only as Hellcat had touched was still tingling. _Not good._

Lilah's mood was uplifted the instant she saw Angel's interest in the girl that had just left the office. She thought of her offspring and smiled. There was definitely something about her that Lilah liked. "Let me guess," she began coolly. "You want to know who she is and why she was here, right?" The vampire made no move to agree, but Lilah knew him fairly well, and knew that she was right. Relishing what she was about to do, her mouth curved up into a sweet smile. "Too bad. It's none of your business. Speaking of, why are you here? And in the middle of the day?"

His reasons for seeking her out long forgotten, Angel turned on his heel and followed the same path that his mystery girl had taken, mentally berating himself for not chasing after her. 

As he made his way back to the Hotel through the sewers, Angel kept replaying his short meeting with the girl over in his mind, trying to figure out why she was with Lilah, and just what it was that had been bothering him since he'd seen the two of them together.

His nose crinkled as a particularly rancid smell invaded his senses. _Wait a minute...smell. They smelled! _He didn't mean that they actually *smelled*, but it hit him that the two women had had a common scent, and the only time that that happened was if they were related....

"Well I'll be damned. Wait 'til the others hear about this." 


	8. ch 8

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **here's a short little chapter that I wanted to get out. From here on, the chapters will be longer, b/c if I continue like this, it'll never be finished, lol. Thanks to those of you who still review (hint hint to those who don't)!**

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It just wasn't fair, he thought bitterly, sitting in a dark corner of the same dive he'd frequented years before. It was mere hours ago that Wesley's life had once again been upheaved. Angel had come charging into the hotel, practically giddy from the little tidbit of information he'd come across during his visit with Lilah. As the others expressed their incredulity, he had become rooted to the floor, unable to move. No one had noticed, but when Cordelia had wondered aloud on the possible identity of the child's father, Angel had faltered a moment and shot Wesley a quick glance. In that split second, Wesley came to an understanding: Angel knew, and there would be questions.

Not wanting to be there, waiting for the unwelcome interrogation to start, he had slipped out quietly, and found himself here, and although it wasn't the best environment for introspection, it was a good place to escape to. 

"Fancy meeting you here."

He didn't look up, but his fingers tightened around his glass. "I'm really not in the mood, Lilah. If I were you, I would just turn around right now and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of." The unspoken threat hung heavily in the air, yet Lilah chose to risk bodily harm and sank into the seat across from him. "I figured that he would've told you by now."

Now he raised his eyes to stare at her. "You're unbelievable, you know that? Just-just get away from me." She refused to budge. "No, Wesley. We need to talk about this."

"Oh, we do, do we? You want to talk? Then start talking." His tone was positively dripping with malice, causing Lilah's frown to deepen. "What do you want me to say, huh? That the kid I thought was gone for good, shows up on my doorstep today, demanding to be let into my life? That-" Without warning, Wesley slammed his fist down on the table, causing Lilah to jump. "Tell me _why_," he hissed. "Tell me why you led me to believe that you allowed my child to be sacrificed, when all this time she's been alive!"

"Dammit, Wesley, I did what I did for a reason! I wanted to keep her safe!" She stopped short, surprised at her own admission. Wesley snorted. "That's rich - when did _you _develop a conscience?"

"That's not fair."

"On the contrary, I think it's more than fair." He paused momentarily and sighed angrily. "You could have given her to me. I would have kept her safe." Lilah shook her head. "It was still too risky, for everyone involved." _And I didn't want to have to see her everyday.....I didn't want to love her. _

Lilah inwardly scowled. She was getting far too soft, and she hated it. She didn't know how to deal with these types of emotions - she just wasn't equipped to handle them. Her inner-monologue was abruptly halted when Wesley stood, throwing some bills on the table. Taking one look at him, she saw it would be useless to continue. His eyes held no emotion; the walls were up.

He cast her one last glance before turning away. "Wesley," she said, watching as he paused, but didn't look back. "Her name's Geneva. Word is she hangs around The Pit most nights." He didn't acknowledge the information she'd just divulged, nor did he ask how she managed to come by it in such a short time. Lilah polished off the drink he had left behind, and, after a moment, flagged a waitress down for another.

...........................

Don't forget to review! (A happy writer makes for more frequent updates, and what makes this writer happy? You guessed it! Feedback!)


	9. ch 9

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Disclaimer: see pt. 1

A/N: **well, here it is. Sorry it took me so bloody long to update, but I had writer's block-sue me. Hope you all enjoy! Oh, and Gidgetgirl (I believe it was you who asked about how she got her powers) well, I think that I've come up with a fairly good explanation. Don't forget to REVIEW!!**

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The crowd was humming with anticipation. Bets were being made, the stakes higher than usual. It was a special night at the Pit - two of the best were facing off against one another. It was an unexpected turn of events, having the vampire issue a challenge to Hellcat, but it had certainly peaked the interest of the spectators.

Wesley had only been to the Pit once, and that was because he had tracked a demon there. This time, he took the opportunity to absorb the atmosphere. Occasionally he still found it a little odd to see humans and demons together without the latter attacking the former, and although it wasn't a foreign sight these days, once in awhile his Watcher training came out of hibernation. Weaving his way through the crowd, he paused when he heard someone calling his name. Turning, he caught sight of a cheerful Bracken demon waving at him. Wes smiled and joined his friend at the small table. "Never thought I'd see *you* here," Maggie Quinn said, taking a drag from the cigarette pinched between her fingers. Wesley shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. So, what's going on here? They seem a lot more....enthusiastic than I remember." 

Maggie's dark eyes damn near sparkled. "Only one of the most exciting events to happen in this hole. It's like celebrity smackdown, only better." She went on to give him a short explanation and jumped to her feet when an odd yellow fellow announced the contenders, trying to get the crowd riled up. Maggie dragged Wesley to the rail, pushing and shoving her way to the front. Along the way, Wesley looked around, but didn't see anyone who might be Geneva. That changed, however, when he looked down into the pit.

The Hellcat person Maggie had told him of turned out to most definitely be the very girl he was looking for. If she hadn't been the only human teenager in the place, her looks would have given her away. Even from where he was, he could see that she had inherited Lilah's aquiline features and his colouring. "Cute, ain't she?" 

Wesley raised an eyebrow at the comment but said nothing. Maggie caught the look and chuckled. "No, I don't swing that way, but gay or not, she's cute. He, on the other hand, is yummy." Upon really seeing Geneva's opponent, Wesley's amusement turned to confusion, among other things. What on earth was Angel doing here? "You said that these two were the best, right? How long has Angel been coming here?" 

Maggie's gaze turned calculating. "You know him?" Wes shrugged, nonchalant. "You could say that. How long?" Turning her attention back to the ring, where the host and contenders still stood, she replied, "Long time, I'd guess. Since I started coming here, anyway. Two years, give or take." She added, seeing impatience flicker in his icy blue eyes. Maggie really liked Wesley, but he could be genuinely frightening sometimes. There was a part of her that was willing to bet that he hadn't always been that way, but something must have happened to make him so...dark, for lack of a better word. 

The crowd had obviously had enough of the yellow host's rambling, and it appeared that Angel and Geneva were just as restless. "I'm not likin' this too much," Maggie muttered, referring to the increasing rowdiness around them, and Wes nodded his agreement. When something let loose a loud roar and a ball of fire, he decided enough was enough and pulled Maggie out of the club to safety. "Aww, and I was just startin' to enjoy myself," she joked, earning a small smile from Wes. Glancing at her watch, Maggie frowned. "I'd ask ya if you wanted to go for a beer or something, but I gotta get back home. Tom only wanted me out of the house long enough to plan a surprise romantic thing." She paused and shrugged. "His gig, not mine, but you gotta humour 'em once in awhile." With a wink and a pat on the butt for Wesley, the Bracken demon was off into the night.

As he stood in the alleyway, debating on whether he should go back to his apartment or the hotel, his cell phone rang. A brief conversation with Gunn made the decision. Cordy'd had a vision, and a vision meant a case. He turned out of the alley and headed in the direction opposite both his flat and the hotel, a small spring in his step. Maybe he'd go over to Krista's later, see if she was interested in a little make up sex. Killing things always got him worked up. 

...........................

The night was hot and muggy, the humidity overbearing. Crickets chirped half-heartedly in the foliage while a lazy breeze lightly rustled the leaves in the trees, but offered no respite from the heat. In the background the familiar urban symphony of horns and sirens and general city sounds played on, easily dismissed as white noise.

Geneva took no notice of her surroundings, ignoring the beads of moisture that condensed on her lip and brow; the way her shirt clung uncomfortably to her back. All her attention was focussed on the tableau playing out before her. She stood silently on the stoop of the impressive hotel, watching through the glass doors. Despite the lack of sound, she got the gist of the situation. Angel and Wesley were on the brink of something - what exactly, she wasn't entirely sure. It seemed that only a few members of the group had caught on to the tension swirling about the pair, and Geneva was relishing the reactions of those still ignorant once things got heated up. 

She was mulling over the best time to make an entrance, taking into considering the fact that the timing had to be good, lest she enter before Angel and Wesley said what they had to say. That would really put a damper on things.

"Enjoying the show?"

Geneva smiled, not bothering to turn and greet the new arrival. "Something's going down - looks to be entertaining. What're you doing here?" She glanced over as Lilah stepped up beside her and glanced in the window. "I was out for a walk," came the dry reply. "Uh huh. I think you're just nosy," she paused and fixed Lilah with an impish grin. "Not that I blame you. These people are fascinating - what're they called again? The Fang Gang? Anyway, your files on them were helpful. Provided lots of insight to the inner workings of their crew."

Lilah silently regarded her offspring for a moment. The girl was watching the circus sideshow that passed themselves off as an investigation agency with obvious amusement; the calculating gleam in those baby blues told Lilah that Geneva was absorbing everything, filing what information she could gather away in her mind. It was a trait that Lilah admired, and recognized as one of her own. "So how come you're just standing out here? I'm sure Angel wouldn't mind the distraction-last I saw of him, he was chomping at the bit for something on you."

Geneva let out a snort of derision. "You really hit the nail on the head with the whole great souled pain in the ass thing. Thinks he has the right to know every little thing that goes on in this city just because he helps keep the big nasties at bay." She paused and returned her gaze to the vampire in question. "Although," she added softly, a certain tone to her voice that caused Lilah to perk up ever-so-slightly. "I'm thinking that there may be certain benefits to be reaped from this....infatuation. I certainly wouldn't mind having a go in the ring with him. It's a shame that things got so out of hand at The Pit last night."

In an instant, Lilah began seeing Geneva in a new light. She was no longer an unwanted surprise, but more of an unexpected gift. The girl had potential...and Lilah was more than willing to lend a hand in cultivating the strengths that were already shining through. 

Except for the fact that Lilah knew nothing about Geneva prior to her arrival in Los Angeles. Her instincts told her to be on guard, and she wasn't arguing with them - they'd saved her ass more times than she could count - but she wasn't going to ignore the fact that her....daughter....was back in her life. 

Crossing her arms over her chest against the sudden chill that swept through her, Lilah asked, "Why are you really here? How do you even know them, anyway?" Her mind was already forming opinions, so Lilah wasn't really expecting the reaction she got. 

"I honestly couldn't give two shits about them. I'm just here for him. Wesley. My father." Her composure remained cool, indifferent, so Lilah didn't see the question mark at the end. Geneva had come to LA knowing who her mother was, but for all the information she'd gathered, it hadn't revealed her father's identity. The minute she'd seen him, however, she'd known. All she was looking for now was confirmation to ease any concerns she had nagging at the back of her mind. 

There was a pregnant pause as Lilah debated on how to reply. "He knows you're here," she finally said, staring in at the man with whom she'd had an explosive relationship all those years before. When Geneva didn't reply, Lilah turned slowly and walked down the pathway to the street, wondering what the future held in store for her and her daughter. 

The encounter with Lilah already forgotten, Geneva decided that now was as good a time as any to make her presence known. She slipped in unnoticed and was just in time to hear Angel exclaim, "Why didn't you ever say that you had a kid?" There was a stunned silence amongst the group. The look Wesley fixed on Angel would have had a lesser man quaking in his boots. "You never could keep your nose out of other people's business, Angel. That always bothered me about you."

Geneva was amazed that no one had noticed her yet - these were supposed to be a bunch of demon hunters? Hell, half of them were demons themselves, for God's sake. No matter, it gave her ample opportunity to see the show from front row seats.

"Wait a minute, just hold on a damn minute." Cordelia held up a hand and commanded the floor. "Wes, you have a kid? And Angel knew about it? What the hell is going on?" Wesley scowled and crossed his arms defensively. "Fine. The reason I never said anything was because I was led to believe that she was dead. And it wasn't until recently that Angel found out."

Cordelia stared at the two men, hard, and then gasped as the proverbial light bulb appeared over her head. "Lilah's the mother, isn't she?"

__

And that's my cue, Geneva thought, stepping out of the shadow she was effortlessly blending in with. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Three different voices immediately spoke out. A guarded "who are you?" from Cordelia, a rather enthusiastic "what are you doing here?" from Angel, and a simple "Geneva" from Wesley. The rest of the Fang Gang remained silent, enraptured by the latest developments in their soap opera-esque existence. 

"Like Wesley said, I'm Geneva. I just stopped by to offer Angel a rain check for the other night." She just couldn't help herself - she loved stirring the pot. She nearly giggled when Cordelia's claws came out. "Oh? And what exactly went on the other night?" The venom dripping from her tone made Angel shift uncomfortably and avert his gaze. "Uh..."

"Oh, that's right..." Wesley interjected, unable to keep the smug look off his face. "Angel's been keeping a little secret from everyone." That certainly got everybody's attention. "It seems that he's been frequenting a place called the Pit for quite some time." He went on to explain what went on at the club, each new word causing Cordelia's anger to grow. 

"I can't believe you!" She hissed, jabbing her finger at him to punctuate her exclamation. "Don't you remember that little incident when you were forced to fight for your life? Remember being locked away like an animal and having to wear that stupid bracelet? And now you're doing it _voluntarily_?"

"To be fair," Geneva broke in, growing bored with the newest turn of events. "It really is a lot of fun. And besides, it's not always to the death. That's really up to the winner. So Angel, up for a rematch sometime?" Despite the death glare his girlfriend was shooting him, Angel was not about to pass up the opportunity. "Absolutely." Geneva smiled, satisfied. 

"Good. Now that that's settled, Wesley, why don't you walk me back to my place." It wasn't really a request, and everyone knew it. After a moment, the ex-Watcher nodded and followed Geneva to the door. She paused on the threshold and turned back to the group, fixing them with her most dazzling smile. "I won't have him out too late. See you all later." And then they were gone. 

"What just happened? Who _was _that?" Gunn was the only one to voice his confusion, speaking for the rest of his family. Maya shrugged. "That was Geneva. I wonder if she's doing the one name thing, like Madonna or Cher." She was enraptured by the newcomer already. Geneva was cool and pretty, and Maya had loved the way that she'd commanded the attention of everyone around her without even trying. 

Maya wasn't the only one enraptured by Geneva. Angel too had noticed the way Geneva's presence in a room made everything else seem insignificant somehow. Things would have to be smoothed over with Cordy, but the teen-was she really only just a teenager? She'd seemed to be ageless...already. Angel was willing to put everything he had on suspicion that Geneva would be an amazing woman in the future. Shaking his head to clear the intrusive thoughts, Angel said, "she's his daughter."

No one was surprised after all the other bombshells that had been dropped in the last hour. Lorne shook his head. "I bet she was a real handful as a kid." Fred risked a glance at her own two children. Both were mild mannered and generally good kids. "Thank god for small miracles," she muttered under her breath. _I wonder what she would have been like if Wesley had raised her?_


	10. ch 10

A/N: **I've edited, semi-rewritten, and split up chapter ten. I've finally started up on this story again! Yay! As always, reviews are craved.**

Now, onto the story!

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"That was quite an entrance you made back there. I don't think Cordelia's been that angry with Angel in a good six months." Geneva shrugged. "I try. Besides, that chick seems like the high-strung type." Swiping at the sweat on her brow, Geneva cursed, "This heat is fucking crazy. We never get it like this at home."

Unable to take his eyes off his daughter, Wesley jumped at the chance to find something out about her. "And where exactly _is _home?" She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "The accent didn't give it away?" Wesley chuckled. "Well, your accent is a little odd, even for an English one. I was just wondering what part you were from."

"London. I just grew up around a lot of different people from different places; picked up some of them along the way."

"So why are you in LA?"

"Well, I wanted to meet my birth parents and," she paused, deciding a little too late that the other reason was irrelevant. "And?" Wesley prodded. Shrugging, Geneva said, "It's not a big deal or anything, there was just a bit of a situation at home and I figured my best bet was to get out of there 'til the heat died down."

Wesley frowned, trying valiantly to keep his curiosity at bay. What kind of situation could she possibly be talking about? "So how is it that you know of the existence of demons and vampires?" The question came out of the blue, so much so that Wesley hadn't even realized that he was thinking it. Geneva smiled, and chose her words carefully. It wouldn't do to reveal too much information just yet. "I just happened to be adopted by people who were in that line of work. Kinda weird that both sets of parents are all into the same thing. So you thought I was dead, huh?"

A brief image of Lilah flashed through his mind and he scowled. "Yes. I was led to believe that Lilah had sacrificed you to her law firm. The senior partners of Wolfram and Hart are evil." Geneva immediately caught on to what he wasn't saying. "And so is she, right? Well, some people are just born bad, and there ain't much you can do about it. This is me."

They were stopped in front of an only moderately seedy motel. She slipped her key in the lock, and Wesley grabbed her arm to stop her from going inside. Geneva stared down at the hand on her arm, and then up into the eyes that mirrored her own, a thinly veiled warning flashing dangerously. Wesley dropped his hand, surprised at the malevolence in her gaze. This girl was dangerous, he realized. _Tread carefully, Wyndham-Price. _He knew from years of experience that caution was key when dealing with strangers, especially those endowed with gifts such as Geneva apparently had. "Right, well, I was hoping we could get together tomorrow, get to know each other a little better."

Geneva brightened, any evidence of the anger replaced by mirth. "Oh I already know all about you, Wesley. Ex-Watcher turned rogue demon hunter, am I right? I might drop by your hotel tomorrow. Goodnight." She gently closed the door in his face, leaving the man with a lot of thinking to do. 

She didn't bother turning on any lights as she made for the shower, peeling off her clothes along the way. It was as she ducked her head under the cool spray that it hit. A bevy of emotions washed through her so strong that she lurched forward, only saving herself from a fall by grabbing onto the shower door. Fear, hate, rage -- none of them hers, yet they were boiling up inside of her, begging to be let free. Very calmly she turned off the water, wrapped a towel around herself and padded into the bedroom. Then, just as calmly, she picked up a pillow and ripped it to shreds. She collapsed on the bed, out of breath. The feelings were still there, and just as strong, but Geneva found it easier to lock them up in her mind. 

Then she got a flash of something, a picture. A dank alleyway, blood, the flash of silver in the dull light. A knife, she realized and tried to see more of the image, to make it clearer somehow. She'd never been prone to visions so she wasn't sure if it would work, but after a minute more of the picture came into focus. 

Scarred brick buildings sat on either side of the narrow space, graffiti marring much of the cracked, dirty facing. At one end of the alley steam rose from a manhole, obscuring the view of the street; at the other, a chain-link fence blocked the way. Trashcans were sporadically placed up and down both lengths of the buildings, and a medium sized dumpster sat midpoint between both ends of the alley. Above, the sky was just beginning to lighten as the first rays of dawn crested on the horizon, the stars losing some of their brilliance, soon to be completely overpowered by a stronger light. 

Geneva blinked, amazed at the clarity of the image. She squinted slightly, trying to get a closer look at something on the far side of the dumpster, when the scene blurred for a moment before returning to normal. Geneva was about to chalk it up to a glitch in the system when her other senses started kicking in. 

The cool breeze brushing against her cheek, a damp strand of hair getting caught in an updraft; the pungent smell of rotting garbage from the dumpster and a coppery hint of what could only be blood; and finally, the unmistakable sounds of a fight: dull thuds signifying fist-to-flesh contact accompanied by grunts, both of pain and exertion. She was forced to face the conclusion that she wasn't merely seeing the event in a vision, she was witnessing it firsthand. 

She soundlessly moved to get a closer look at the two men fighting, avoiding the broken glass and trash with practiced ease. Eyeing something dark and slimy on the ground, she was eternally grateful that she was wearing shoes. _Wait, when did I get dressed? _The last thing she remembered wearing was a bath towel. "Later," she murmured. "Worry about it later." There were more important things that warranted her attention. It was obvious who was going to lose the fight, and the winner wasn't going to be the one who most would expect. 

The soon-to-be-loser was backed up into the corner between the dumpster and the wall. He was huge, about six-two or three, and half as wide. His face was a mess, bruised and bloodied and already swelling. Tilting her head pensively, Geneva decided that he was probably in his mid-thirties, and didn't like -- or understand -- the fact that someone who looked like his assailant was beating him. Geneva, however, understood completely how he was going to be the victor. He may have been younger, anywhere from sixteen to twenty was Geneva's guess, and he may have been smaller (lean and sinewy and skimming just under the six-foot mark) but he moved with an innate predatory grace, and had the skill of someone who'd most likely had to learn to defend himself from the vicious would-be attackers that ruled the streets. 

And then there was the power that Geneva could feel emanating from him. There was so much that she could practically see it, but he hadn't used any of it yet. Her thoughts were distracted when the bigger man threw a clumsy swing at the other's head. He easily deflected the blow but held onto the man's arm, jamming the heel of his palm into the man's elbow. There was a crack and the guy howled in pain. He sank to the ground, clutching his arm. 

The younger guy looked down at him, and although she couldn't see his face, Geneva knew he was sneering. "Don't get too comfortable down there," he hissed, his tone rivalling the iciest arctic plains. The man looked up, fear written across his face. "Please," he pleaded, his voice breaking. He was ignored. The guy - _what the hell's his name? _- held his hand out, but not in invitation. The hulking figure of the man now curled up on the ground started to move. "What are you doing?!" He cried, voice quivering in terror. 

Geneva could only watch, fascinated by the scene in front of her. The man's body was straightening and rising obviously against its will until he was spread-eagled against the building wall, a foot off the ground. He had finally used his power and the atmosphere was positively crackling with energy. _Why do I know him?_

As soon as he'd used some of his power, she'd gotten the strongest sense of deja vu. Every time a person with even the tiniest amount of magical energy used some of it, they left a signature, something that reflected the source. She _knew _his signature, but from where? She heard a sharp intake of breath from the guy on the wall and it only took a second to see the reason. It was the knife that she'd seen in her vision: a silvery blade with a deadly point that was streaked crimson with blood. It was languidly floating through the air; reminiscent of the times she'd used her power to stake vampires when she couldn't physically hold the weapon. _But whose blood is that?_ That was the most important question. 

"I can just see the headlines now," Guy number one continued thoughtfully, mocking, but no less venomously. "'Man fucks ten-year-old girl, gets eviscerated with own knife.'" Geneva's jaw dropped and she turned to look up and down the alley, frantically searching for the aforementioned ten-year-old on the off chance that she was actually in the vicinity. There was nothing...._wait. _Down by the fence there were some trashcans, and peeking out from behind them were a pair of small feet clad in brand new patent leather mary-janes. 

Geneva raced over and dropped to her knees beside the girl, who was lying bloodied and broken on the filthy ground. In the dawn's early light she could see what that monster had done. She was still in her school uniform, the dark green material blackened by the blood seeping out of her chest...and pooling between her thighs. Not only had he raped her, that bastard had stabbed her and left her for dead in a dank alley. Vowing to shake the hand of the man who was about to exact some vengeance for the little girl, Geneva clamped her hand over the chest wound, hoping to staunch the blood flow. 

The little girl's eyelids fluttered and Geneva found a pair of beautiful moss-green eyes staring up at her. "Are you an angel?" It was then that Geneva realized that the language she was hearing wasn't English. It sounded European and although she couldn't place it, she understood it. Yet another mystery to be later dissected. "No, but I'm going to help you. My name's Geneva. What's yours?" Using her free hand, she brushed aside the fringe of dark blonde hair that was settled across the girl's forehead.

"Natasha. It-" the girl paused to cough, causing blood to dribble from the corner of her mouth. "It hurts." Geneva felt her eyes welling with tears, both of sadness and rage. This poor child was dying in an alleyway, being humiliated and violated the last thing she'd experience in her short life. There was a cry of pure agony from behind her, and Geneva smiled. "Don't worry, baby. It'll be over soon, I promise."

"Where is Nik?" The girl was losing strength, and fast. "Who?" Geneva didn't want to make her talk, but she needed to know. Natasha looked up at her again, some of the light fading from her eyes. "Nikolai - my brother. He came, took the man..." 

Geneva glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the knife burrow itself in the man's chest. He fell to the ground with a thud, his killer looking down on him. It was light enough now to see the scorn and triumph on his face. "Nikolai?" She called, uncertain. When his head jerked up at the name, she knew it was him. He took in the sight of a stranger kneeled protectively over his sister, hands soaked in blood, and raced over, ready and willing to use whatever means necessary to rescue the girl from the interloper. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded. Geneva held up her free hand in a gesture of peace. "Whoa. Hold up. My name's Geneva. I'm on your side." It looked like he was about to err on the side of caution and attack her anyway when his sister uttered his name once again. His suspicions momentarily forgotten, Nik copied Geneva's position on Natasha's opposite side. 

"You're alive!" He gasped. His entire demeanor changed in an instant and he all but radiated hope. Geneva was overcome with grief; a feeling to which she was not accustomed. She continued stroking Natasha's hair. "Not for very much longer," she said softly, in English. Nikolai's head jerked up. Geneva winced. It looked like this guy understood her native tongue. "Don't say that," he retorted sharply, his English clear and unaccented. 

"I'm sorry. I know it hurts" she replied, almost unable to break the connection that had formed when their eyes had met. His were the most unusual colour she'd seen on a human. They were the amber-gold she was accustomed to seeing on a vampire in his game face. Those eyes, along with the delightfully unkempt raven hair and a sharp bone structure that could have been carved in marble created a lethal combination: sexy as hell with a hint of danger lurking just below the surface. But that wasn't what she was looking at. She'd finally realized why he was so familiar. He was one of the three different people who she'd come to know over the years purely through the emotions that were sometimes projected onto her. She'd wondered on occasion whether or not she did the same to them, and that thought once again appeared.

"I know you," Nikolai murmured, and she got her confirmation. She wasn't sure what would have been said next if Natasha hadn't brought them back to planet earth. "Nik..." Geneva and Nik immediately focussed on the girl, both immensely guilty for forgetting about her, but for no reason as the entire encounter had taken but seconds. 

"I'm here Tash. Hold on, we'll get help." His hope had turned to desperation and Geneva's eyes filled once again. "No, it's too late." Natasha took another gasping breath and her brother latched onto her hand with one of his, placing the other on top of Geneva's over the wound. At that moment something extraordinary happened. Geneva swore that she felt a mild shock, and not in the cheesy romance novel way. An honest-to-god electric shock, and then her internal system went haywire. She could feel the power that raced through her veins start to grow. Things around her became crystal-clear, her senses heightened; it was amazing. The ultimate high -- a sensation that blew every other rush that she'd experienced as an adrenaline junkie out of the water. Geneva could only stare at Nikolai, whose expression of surprise mirrored her own. "What the hell....?" He exclaimed, yanking his hand away from hers as if she'd burned him, leaving hers cold and tingly. Geneva pouted at the sudden loss but turned her attention back to Natasha, who was trying to speak. 

"Wh-what happened to..." she trailed off, unable to speak of her attacker. "Don't worry about him, Tash. He's gone." Nik did his best to soothe Natasha, but Geneva ruined the effect by blurting out, "he's burning in hell."

Nikolai glared at her, and Geneva almost felt bad for saying it. Then the corners of Natasha's lips curved up. "Good. I'm going to go to heaven, right?" It was that question, so guarded and unsure, that sent the tears that had been threatening to spill streaming down Geneva's cheeks. She'd _never_ cried because of death, but this was the only one that she'd experienced that warranted it. Nikolai was just as upset by his sister's plea. "Oh baby, of_ course _you're going to heaven! And you'll be with Papa when you get there." 

"You're going to be an angel, Natasha. Mark my words. You'll be the prettiest angel in heaven, too." Natasha's breath hitched and she closed her eyes. It was the end -- they all knew it. "I love you, Tash." Nik breathed, anxious for the girl to hear it. "I lov........"

She didn't get to finish.

Nikolai pressed a kiss to Natasha's forehead and then stood. Letting out a primal yell of rage, he kicked the trashcans, creating enough noise to wake the dead. Geneva got to her feet saying, "You have every right to kick the shit out of those cans, but it might draw unwanted attention." Nik stopped, breathing hard. He gathered Natasha's limp body in his arms while Geneva let her hands drop to her sides and sighed. "You didn't deserve this, Natasha. I hope you're at peace now." She'd reverted back to English, not having the energy for anything else. She turned away from the grieving brother, not quite sure where to go or how to get home, only knowing that she didn't belong at this very private moment. 

"Wait."

She stopped and looked back. Nik stepped forward, closing the short distance between them. "Who are you?" Geneva smiled sadly, knowing that he meant more than her name. "Don't worry about me saying anything. If you hadn't done it, I would have." She looked over the body and felt utter loathing toward the scum bubbling up inside of her. "Except I probably would've cut his damn dick off," she muttered darkly. There was a lot of blood, she noted, giving her cause to feel slightly better on Natasha's behalf. The something occurred to her. "I think we should get rid of the body. I mean, I'm not really sure how things work here, but I wouldn't want to risk you getting thrown into jail."

She glanced up at Nikolai and saw realization dawn in his golden eyes. "You're right," he agreed, nodding resolutely. "What do you suggest we do?" 

"If the circumstances were different, I'd probably leave him for the demons or rats."

"I like that idea," he said softly. "But in this case I think it would be best to just get rid of it completely." 

"Leave it to me." Geneva copied the stance that Nikolai occupied earlier and held out her hand, the palm facing the body, and visualized exactly what she wanted done. Within seconds the corpse burst into white-hot flames that would reduce him to ash in minutes. They watched in silence for a moment before Geneva once again turned to leave.

"You never answered my question!" He called after her in a tone that told her he wasn't used to not being in control of a situation. The last little while was probably making him feel like a fish out of water. Before she could properly answer, she heard shouts from the street. 

"What was that?....I heard screams.......I think there was a fire!" 

Geneva looked back and forth between the mouth of the alley, where the sound of footsteps was drawing ever closer, and Nikolai. He was studying her; those gold eyes of his boring into her very soul it seemed, and she didn't like it. They were too intrusive, too...knowing. He was looking at her like he'd known her all his life and was just reconnecting with past memories. "You have to get out of here," she advised him, even though he was smart enough to realize that himself. "And so do I." Geneva met Nikolai's stare evenly and prepared to teleport. Just before she completely disappeared, he uttered a quiet warning. 

"This isn't over." 

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REVIEW! Give me your ideas, your thoughts, your criticisms. I thrive on them, and they'll make me update faster! ;)


	11. ch 11

A/N: **This used to be part of chapter 10, but I've rewritten it and decided that the chapter was too long all lumped together, so I've split it up. So I've now officially updated after nearly a year of inactivity. However, I will not let such an atrocious amount of time pass before updating again, I swear.**

So in order for me to update within the next week, I need your reviews!! (That's not necessarily a stipulation though, lol)

Enjoy!

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Something's wrong. 

When Geneva opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the water spot on the ceiling. That was the first of many things that shouldn't have happened. Sitting up she realized that one, she was back to wearing nothing but the bath towel, and two, the sun was out. A quick look at the clock confirmed that it was nearly eleven a.m. Had it all been just a dream?

"There's no way that was a dream," she said aloud. The memory of the young girl's death was far too vivid; that penetrating gold stare still burned. And her body still hummed from the intense power boost she'd gotten from touching that guy.

Leaning over the sink, Geneva inspected herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair definitely looked like she'd fallen asleep with it wet and she _was _still wearing the towel. There was not a drop of blood to be found, nor any other sign indicating that the scene in the alley had been anything other than a figment of her subconscious. She bent in closer to the mirror and squinted, sort of hoping that the truth would be revealed in her eyes. 

Nothing.

Heaving a sigh of pure frustration, she grabbed her brush and yanked it through her tangled locks. "It was _not _a dream!" She said it fiercely, determined to prove herself right. She dragged her hair into a ponytail and dressed quickly, anxious to get started. The only problem was she had no idea where to begin. She did, however, know the perfect person to ask.

~*~

"Adrian!"

Geneva stood over her brother's bed and hissed his name, not wanting to alert the people in the next room of her presence. Knowing that simply talking at him wouldn't rouse him, Geneva nudged him, executing a little more force than necessary, and he ended up half on the floor tangled up in his blanket. "What the bloody hell..." came the muffled, groggy curse as Adrian untangled himself and pushed his way back onto the bed. "Geneva? I thought you were in L.A. What the hell are you doing here?" He was not pleased at being woken so damn early just because his sister felt like chatting, and said as much.

"First of all, little brother, it's not early. It's past seven. P.M.," she clarified at her brother's glare and shoved a pile of clothes off his desk chair so she could sit. "What are you doing in bed, anyway?"

"Composing a symphony." Came the terse reply. "What do you think?" Shrugging, she replied, "For all I know, Jez could be hiding under your bed looking for her underwear." Adrian was so used to her ribbing on the subject of his friendship -- nothing more! -- with Jez Hunter that he no longer blushed at the implications Gen insisted on making that they were having sex, and so completely ignored the comment. "Look, I had a late night and I was just getting a few hours in before I go out tonight." Geneva knew that he didn't mean he was going out to party, he was going out to work. Their father took all the girls out in group slaying sessions several times a week, and Adrian joined them as often as he could. He was the only one who attended regular school, solely because Giles felt that his son needed to make friends with boys his age as opposed to being in the company of nothing but teenaged girls, a mishmash of supernatural beings and the people crazy enough to want to carve out a life with them. 

"So what _are _you doing here?" Adrian asked as he toed the pile of clothes on the floor and bent to grab what was presumably the cleanest shirt in the lot. Geneva shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you. And I need your help, actually."

He cocked a brow. "There's this great new invention they've got now. It's called a telephone." Geneva rolled her eyes. "Your wit astounds me. Don't you want to know what's happened?" Before he could answer she launched into a play-by-play account of everything that had happened from the point she'd arrived in Los Angeles to the minute she'd woken in her hotel room that morning. "So?" she said, almost half an hour later, interested in hearing her brother's take on the whole thing.

Adrian remained silent for a moment as he mulled Geneva's situation over. Of course he'd heard of Wesley Wyndham-Price. The man's father, Roger, had been a harsh reminder of the Council of the past, trying to impose his small-minded beliefs on the new organization until he'd retired two years before. The fact that Roger's progeny turned out to be Gen's biological father had to be more than a coincidence. Adrian tried to imagine the Wesley his sister had described, but found it hard to match the image of the dark, imposing man to the simpering twit both Roger and the core Scooby gang had been fond of making fun of on the rare occasion Wesley was brought up in a conversation. 

And the infamous Angel, souled vampire extraordinaire, apparently had a crush on his sister. Or at least an infatuation, according to Geneva, who'd looked like there was a bad taste in her mouth as she'd said it. 

Not for the first time he found himself envying his sister for her dramatic life. Then he reminded himself of the life that he himself lived, and all the possibilities included. Plus, Gen had a lot of crap to deal with that he didn't want the burden of, the story she'd just told him being a prime example. Finally he responded with the first thing to come to mind. "That's fucked up."

She let out a snort of derisive laughter. "That's probably the understatement of the decade. Now, about the part where I ask for your help," she continued after a pause, and Adrian waited patiently for her to continue. He had limitless patience, a trait that he'd most likely received from their father, though Adrian seemed to have it in spades whereas Rupert Giles could only be pushed so far before Ripper surfaced. 

"I'm one hundred percent sure that last night was _not _a dream," she began and got to her feet to pace. "But I don't know how to explain what happened. That's where you come in."

"Uh huh. And what, exactly, do you expect me to do?"

"I dunno, research? Ask dad? You're smart enough to figure it out." 

Adrian narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "And why do you think I'll take time out of my schedule to be your errand boy?" Geneva smirked. "Because that's what you were born for. Besides, what are you doing these days that's so important? It's the middle of summer." He ignored the remarks. "You want my help so you can track this Nikolai guy down, I assume."

"Yeah, I want to know what it meant," she said, referring to the power boost they'd both gotten when they'd touched. "It was amazing, and I get the feeling that it's important. How could it not be? I mean, this guy has just as much power as me, and we're connected emotionally with two other people." She paused mid-step and fell silent for a moment. "Man, things have really come a long way since this all started."

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked; a question to which Geneva shrugged. "I've felt the others for as long as I can remember, but it took me forever to learn how to tell them apart. Now this happens. Makes me wonder what's next."

"Not to mention why all this is happening in the first place." At his sister's affirmative, he continued on. "You know.....if you told mum and dad, they could help you figure things out better than I could. Or Wesley for that matter." 

Geneva shook her head. "No way. I don't even know Wesley. Besides, I'm playing things very close to the vest over there. And as for mum and dad, you know I can't. Not now." Adrian was the only one she'd ever told about being invaded by foreign emotions, and if she told her parents about them for the first time after over a decade it would cause more trouble than it was worth -- and she was in enough trouble with them already. "Speaking of...." She trailed off, shooting a glance in the general direction of her parents' room. Adrian followed her gaze and shook his head. "They're gonna be royally pissed when they find out that you fucked with their memories, you know that right?"

"If, little brother. The key word is _if. _They won't find out from me, and I trust you not to say anything." Adrian didn't miss the subtle threat in the statement, but disregarded it with a roll of the eyes. "Don't get worked up over it or anything. You know I'm on your side." Geneva smiled slightly, pleased as ever with her brother's loyalty (a sentiment she returned wholeheartedly), though having never doubted it. But she honestly wasn't worried about the fallout should her mum and dad find out the truth. Adrian returned her smile, knowing his sister well enough to know what she was thinking. He was used to Geneva's careless attitude towards authority and consequences, and sometimes admired her for it. Deep down, though, he was concerned for her. "Gen, you were dabbling in the dark stuff, and they caught you. You know how much dad hates dark magic."

"Well they don't remember any of it, now do they?" She shot back sharply, sick of the topic. "What's done is done. If the truth comes out then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'm just worried about you. You're gonna be in a world of trouble when this all comes to light, and you're going to need someone in your corner. So be nice."

The tension broken, Geneva laughed slightly. "So will you help me or not?" Adrian sighed in defeat. "Fine, but you owe me." Geneva grinned. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Just don't let anyone know what you're up to." This time it was Adrian's turn to grin. "Please, you know me better than that."

Geneva did know him. He was incredibly smart and had enough charm to choke a horse, and because of that Adrian had the uncanny ability to get whatever he wanted from just about anyone without that person quite realizing what they'd agreed to. "Give me a call when you find something out, okay?" He nodded. "Keep me posted on your soap opera. Sounds like you're having fun."

"I am, little brother. You don't know what you're missing."

He had a pretty good idea, and he had a feeling that Geneva was playing with fire. His concern for his sister swelled up again and he uttered a quiet plea....warning....as she began to shimmer out of sight. "Be careful, Gen. Don't do anything stupid." And by stupid, he meant dangerous. Or going and getting herself killed. 

He stared at the spot she'd been standing in for a full minute after she'd disappeared, wondering. If Geneva had heard him, and he wasn't sure she had, would she heed his advice? He didn't even have to think about the answer, and let out a snort. 

"The idiot'll probably go and get her head chopped off just to spite me."

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REVIEW! Give me your ideas, your thoughts, your criticisms. I thrive on them, and they'll make me update faster! ;)


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